Pride Falls
by SweenyG
Summary: Pride & company investigate want to know why a petty officer suddenly died of cardiac arrest in a hospital emergency room. The main suspect might also be the woman Pride has been looking for. Possible actresses for Rachel could be Tess Harper (a tad younger), Holly Hunter, or Melissa Leo
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective copyright owners, i.e., CBS. I had nothing to do with their creation, nor profit from their use. But, I did create some characters and they are mine. No copyright infringement is intended, this is just for fun.

 **A/N** : Have revised this to fit the new info from new episode. Looks like they have reconsidered hooking him up with Agent Parsons-maybe they got mail-still you never know. I have also added a new chapter.

 **Chapter One**

NCIS Special Agent Dwayne "King" Pride stood at the kitchen island and sipped his morning coffee. He had slept well and his health was good; still, he felt off-kilter. Unsure of the source, he made a mental rundown of his usual concerns. The last time he'd spoken to his daughter Laurel, she sounded happy; his finances were in good order; the bar was humming along; and the NCIS office had no new cases.

Then he remembered a new addition-his love life-and felt a sting.

His ex-wife Linda had initiated their separation with the deceptively benign decision to "take a break." She had told him that she was tired of taking second place to his job and he reluctantly conceded her the point. They spent many hours with a counselor and Pride made determined efforts to change his behavior. But, as time went on, he began to realize that she had no intention of getting back together. During sleepless nights, he forced himself to consider that she had moved on. Any wisp of reconciliation disappeared when she took a vacation with her new boyfriend.

The idea of taking a trip with another person or even dating was as foreign to Pride as serving TV dinners on Thanksgiving. The prospect of going out with a woman for the purpose of romance made him break out in a cold sweat.

On the surface, he appeared to accept his single status, but inside he was stalled in married mode. Hell, it took him two months after the divorce to take off his wedding ring, and then, only because he was going undercover.

The last time he was unattached there was no Internet, no cell phones, and no email. To his chagrin, Laurel and his friends were all too happy to drag him into the 21st century dating scene. Apparently everyone had an eligible friend, relative, or acquaintance who would be "perfect." He got e-mails and texts with numbers, names, and, sometimes, photos. He also had a fair number of business cards, usually with a handwritten note like "loves cops!" Every time an attractive women of a certain age came in the office-even suspects-the other agents always seemed to make themselves scarce leaving Pride and her alone.

They even went as far as setting him up on a dating site. Twice.

The worst was Special Agent Chris LaSalle who was majoring in Getting Pride Laid 101.

"You'll feel better after a little gland-to-gland combat," he'd said with a smirk.

Pride would throw him a sour look. First, he did not like discussion of his personal life; and second, if he did begin a relationship, it wouldn't just be about getting some. Sure, he missed sex—one of God's greatest gifts-but, he needed a strong emotional attachment. Between dating and marriage, he had been faithful to Linda for 30 years. Even before, he never had more than one girlfriend at a time. Well, there was that beer-fueled, one-night stand back in college, but it caused him such guilt, he swore never to do it again.

He was a one-woman man—always would be.

Still, he knew deep down that he had to start somewhere. He had chided LaSalle and Patton Plame for putting up his profile on a dating site. He took it down, but kept the one his daughter had set up. After several weeks, he finally got the nerve to connect with a CPA who appeared to share his interests of cooking, jazz, and hiking. When they communicated the night before, she was going on a cruise, so they set a date to meet for coffee two weeks in the future.

And this scared the shit out of him.

At this realization, his cell phone rang.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The automatic doors at the Pontchartrain Medical Center Emergency Room burst open with an explosive bang. Paramedics rushed in with a bloodied man on a gurney swathed in tubes and tore down the hall. Just before the doors closed completely, Pride caught them with his hand as he and Merri Brody entered carrying a hobbling LaSalle between them. The younger man also held his left arm gingerly.

The uninjured agents deposited LaSalle in a nearby wheelchair. "Arm, Arm, foot, foot" he yelped.

The three along with Special Agent Sonya Percy had responded to a call of a disturbed man dressed in a Naval uniform threatening the staff inside a nearby clinic. They heard shots being fired and the gunman fled, obviously hit. LaSalle pounced on him and the force sent the two rolling down cement steps.

It turned out, the man exchanged fire with someone inside the clinic. NOPD was on the scene and Pride left Percy there to represent NCIS as they got LaSalle to the hospital.

Pride approached the registration desk. "We have an injured federal agent here," he said. "He fell down a stairway."

LaSalle groaned.

Pride continued, "He's in a lot of pain."

"He the one who shot the other guy?" the nurse asked in an even tone.

"He was already shot when I chased him," LaSalle yelled in defense. "Bastard took me down."

Pride gave the nurse an apologetic smile. "He here too?" he asked.

"Went straight to the trauma unit," she said. "I can't give you any more information."

"Can you call security for his room until NOPD gets here?" Pride said.

"Sure, but I don't think he's going anywhere," she said as she picked up the phone.

The registration period was blessedly short, in part because LaSalle had been there many times before. The registrar put a band on his right wrist.

An aide came in and began to wheel LaSalle out. "Take him to 16," the nurse told her.

The ER rooms looked like any other in the hospital, except sliding glass doors made up the fourth wall. Curtains could be drawn across for privacy. After a few minutes, a young blonde nurse came in.

"Cindy!" LaSalle said.

Her demeanor changed instantly.

"Hello Special. Agent. LaSalle," she said curtly. She took out the blood pressure monitor from the wall and wrapped it tightly around his left arm.

"Bad arm, bad arm!" he cried.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding at all sincere. She switched sides and began to pump the bulb vigorously. She then snapped an 02 device on his finger and rubbed a thermometer over his forehead. She turned to the computer mounted on the side wall and began inputting the data.

"How are my numbers?" he asked.

"You'll live," she said and threw a blue plaid hospital gown on his lap. "You know the drill, open to the back. The PA will be in soon." She snapped the curtain closed.

"Brrr, chilly in here," Brody said.

"What's with her?" LaSalle said. "She gave me a massage last time." He knocked his elbow against the bed rail, "Son of a bitch!"

Brody looked at Pride, "Indeed."

Before LaSalle had a chance to change, a lanky redhead came in wearing a PA badge.

"Hello Agent Pride, Brody," she said.

"Lorraine!" LaSalle said.

The PA ignored his greeting and began to examine his limbs. By this time, his ankle and elbow had both swelled to grapefruits. She began to move his foot.

"Does this hurt?" she asked flatly.

"YES!" he said.

"How about this?" She probed his elbow.

He screamed like a goat.

"Well, that elbow's probably broken, and that ankle could be broken or badly sprained. We'll need x-rays to confirm," she said putting information into the computer. "And, I'll order something for the pain. Are you allergic to anything besides returning phone calls?"

Brody and Pride suppressed chuckles.

"No," he said, crestfallen.

"The nurse will be in to give you your meds," she said.

"You're coming back though right?" LaSalle tried his best charm despite the pain.

"No, the orthopedist will see you next," she said on her way out. "Good-bye." It sounded permanent.

"Better pray the next nurse is male, Chris," Pride said with a smile. "I don't think you want any women near you with sharp objects."

LaSalle tried to take off his shirt. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he said and turned to Brody. "Can you help me get my clothes off?"

Brody made a tight face, "And, that's when I leave."

Pride stepped out of the room with her.

"Why don't you get back to Percy at the clinic and learn things," he said.

"Need some help here," LaSalle cried from behind the curtain.

"I'll stay here with the boy and get some info from the suspect, if possible," Pride finished.

"OK, Pride," Brody said. She spoke to the curtain. "Behave yourself LaSalle."

About 10 minutes later, another nurse came into the room. She went directly to the computer and logged in.

"My name is Rachel and I'll be your nurse Mr. LaSalle," she said in a soft southern accent.

"Pick the short straw?" Pride asked slightly amused. She glanced at him with a sly smile. Pride was relieved to see that she was somewhat older than the other nurses, and ergo not LaSalle's type.

"It's about time you got here," Chris snarled. "A person could pass out from pain."

"I apologize," she said warmly. "But, I do have your pain meds."

She turned from the computer and scanned LaSalle's bracelet, a bag of saline, and a syringe, then set up the IV.

"Well, Mr. LaSalle, it appears you have dated nearly half the ER staff and arrested relatives of another third," she said as she worked.

"Occupational hazard," he said weakly.

She felt around LaSalle's right arm and found a vein.

"Now just a pinch," she said.

"Yow!" he said. "Watch it Rached!"

"You _are_ a charmer!" she said pleasantly, as she finished attaching the tubing. "Now, I'm giving you Dilaudid right in your line, so you should feel better soon." She inserted the syringe into the IV port. She placed a hand gently on his unaffected shoulder.

"Try to relax and let the medication work." She spoke in a soothing manner as if calming a baby to sleep.

LaSalle's demeanor improved in just a few minutes.

"See, isn't that better?" she said to him. "Like a warm blanket over the pain."

Soon after, the orderly came in to take him to x-ray.

He and Rachel walked out of the room as LaSalle rolled out of the room.

"I'll wait here for you, son," Pride said.

" _Are_ you his father?" the nurse asked.

Pride chuckled, "Not in the biological sense. I'm his senior officer." He extended his hand. "NCIS Special Agent Dwayne Pride."

He considered the woman; she was not overtly beautiful or even pretty, but she was pleasant to look at with a friendly, familiar face, although he was certain they hadn't met. She was a tad petite, about 5'3", with wavy, mostly auburn hair held back in a bun, fair skin, full lips, and clear blue eyes. He guessed she was somewhere in her 40s.

"Rachel Norton," she said, returning the handshake with her gloved hand. "Oops, sorry." She smiled and peeled them off.

She began to wash her hands at a nearby sink. "So, I'm told Mr. LaSalle's injuries had something to do our gunshot victim in the trauma bay."

"He apprehended the suspect at the Crescent Clinic," he said.

"Really? I used to work there," she said.

"So, you know Dr. Hollister?" he asked.

"Leland?"

He nodded. "Staff there told 911 that a man in a Naval uniform came in yelling his name and brandishing a gun."

"He's in with that patient right now," she said. "That's probably not kosher…"

"No, nurse, it is not," Pride said.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is still short, but revised, mostly at the end. If you have read before, you must see again, as it is pertinent to the story. Also, had to change Rachel's last name because it turned out to be the same as Emily Brody's boyfriend.**

Chapter 3

As Pride and Rachel started walking toward the trauma section, an alarm went off.

"Code Blue, room T4, Code Blue..."

Rachel suddenly quickened her step. "Shit! I was afraid of that…" she said.

Pride followed her lead. "Our man?" he asked.

"Yep!"

They joined a stream of people going to the room. Rachel touched Pride's shoulder and indicated her head toward a tall bulky man in a white coat at the end of the hall conspicuously going away from the scene.

"Hollister?" Pride asked.

She nodded and went into the patient's room.

Pride went in the direction of the errant white coat and called. "Dr. Hollister!"

The man turned the far corner without responding.

When Pride got there, the hall was empty. Then, he heard the stairway door click closed.

He ran to the stairs and listened for footsteps. He started to go up, then paused and ran down to the lower level. He emerged at another hallway and gave it a quick glance up and down. He spied a man in a white coat going into a room to the left at the end of the hall and he took off.

The room turned out to be the cafeteria, filled with hospital staff. Not knowing what Hollister looked like, Pride decided to regroup. Going back out into the hall, he looked up and saw a sign indicating STAFF PARKING with an straight arrow.

He tore down toward the other end of the hall and entered the parking garage.

He started up the ramp when he heard a car backing up behind him. He turned to see the bumper of a dark blue Lexus just a few inches from his knees, making him slip backwards and fall hard on his butt. As It sped away down the ramp, he couldn't get the license number.

Rachel came in to see the code starting. Chief resident Charlie Grimes had taken charge.

"I can document, Grimes." she said.

She took a clipboard with the Code Blue forms attached. The docs called out orders for drugs and dosages noting the patient's response, which unfortunately was not positive. They continued compressions. After a few minutes, they tried the defibrillator, but to no avail. After about 15 minutes with no results, they stopped and Grimes pronounced time of death.

Rachel shook her head. She had seen this happen countless times, but it was never easy, especially when the patient was young and the cause violent.

As part of her role as documenting nurse, she had to fill in the details. It appeared no one had witnessed the actual event. She showed her notes to the doctor.

"What about them," she said indicating the NOPD officers.

"They just arrived when Ginny came in. She saw he wasn't breathing, and called the code," he said.

Rachel paused and asked him quietly. "Did you see Hollister in here?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Why would he be here?"

"The patient was shot at his office," she said.

"Well, if he was here, I'd like to know what happened," he said. "This doesn't make any sense-the bullet went through, bleeding was controlled, he had a strong heart."

"Do you suspect nefarious intervention?" Rachel and the resident turned to Pride's voice as he entered the room. He looked slightly disheveled.

"Could be," Grimes replied, "We'll have to do an autopsy."

"Well, the victim was a sailor, so NCIS will be taking over from here," Pride flashed his badge. "Our lab will find out what happened."

"Let me get his things together," Rachel said.

Pride nodded and stepped out to get on the phone. As Rachel gathered up the patient's clothes, a folded piece of paper fell out. She picked it up and was just about to open it when another nurse popped her head in.

"Hey, Rach, can you give me a hand with 15?"

"Sure." Rachel absentmindedly stuffed the paper in her pocket and put the clothes in a plastic bag. She left the bag on the dead man's bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As things shook out, the team learned that the victim's name was Petty Officer First Class Mark DuBois, a native of New Orleans. The working theory was that a jumpy security guard shot him, but something told Pride that wasn't the whole story. The shaky man seemed incapable of shooting a frog in a shot glass, let alone a crazed gunman. Plus, they still had to find out why DuBois was after Hollister. The doctor was in the wind, and no one else had any answers.

There was also the mystery as to why the sailor had died. Considering his injuries, he had been extraordinarily lucky. The ER doctors did not deem the wound life-threatening. He did have some broken ribs from the fall, but those didn't pierce any vital organs. They turned the body over to the forensics team of Dr. Loretta Wade and Sebastian Lund, but it would take some time to get the lab work done.

As the PA had corrected hypothesized, LaSalle's ankle was sprained and his elbow was broken in several places. Surgeons had to screw in metal tabs to set it. When Pride, Brody, and Percy visited him after his operation, his arm was casted and his leg elevated on a pillow of ice.

"Brody, baby, you came back!" He said with a loopy smile.

"I told you I would LaSalle," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Fannnnn-tastic," he slurred and nodded his head for emphasis. "These people are so nice!"

"And, they have such nice drugs," Percy smirked.

"Well, Christopher," Pride said. "They want to keep you here another day. And, I don't want to see you at the office for at least a week."

"But, I'm raring for action," LaSalle protested.

"Whoa, country mouse," Percy said indicating his arm. "Looks like your paw's outta commission for awhile."

"This-pffttt," LaSalle said. "I use my other arm to shoot and, hey," he smiled as if a light bulb went off. "I could hide my gun in the sling! How great would that be!"

The three other agents looked amused.

"You think about that LaSalle," Merri said. "And we'll get back to you."

Pride stopped smiling. "Seriously son, you need to heal, and you're no good to us if you re-injure yourself."

LaSalle made a face, even through the drug haze, knew the senior officer was right. Still, he wasn't used to being idle, and the thought of being cooped up in his apartment made him crazy.

"Maybe y'all could come by my place to keep me company," he winked at Brody.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A day later, Rachel was doing her laundry. As she loaded her uniforms into the washing machine, she couldn't help but let her mind wander. Thinking about that young dead sailor stirred up old heartache. Then, her thoughts turned to Agent Pride and she smiled to herself. Something about him radiated warmth and familiarity. She felt comfortable with him from the moment they shook hands. And, it didn't hurt that he was severely handsome. She was almost ashamed to admit that she had checked his left hand for a ring, and didn't see one. Still, not all men wore one, and she wouldn't be surprised if he was spoken for. But, she mused, maybe she shouldn't hope for romance at her age; maybe her late husband Ronnie had been her only shot at love. As she daydreamed, she began to clean out the pockets of her uniform. Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she touched the paper she had picked up off the floor.

She opened it up and read. Suddenly, she went pale and had to sit down. After composing herself, she went to her wallet, pulled out the card Pride gave her, and called him.

"Special Agent Pride?" She said. "This is Rachel Norton, the ER nurse from the other day. You told me to call if I had any more info. I think I may have something for you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To guard her privacy, Pride asked Rachel to meet him at his bar, CFA. It was late morning on a Monday, so the place was closed to the public. He was playing "Someone to Watch Over Me" on his grandmother's piano when she came in. He looked up and gestured to her. She tentatively approached the stage and he stopped.

"Oh, please don't stop-that was beautiful," she said. "I wish I could play like that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Norton," he said. "You play?

"Not very well," she said. "Just to accompany myself while I sing."

"You sing?" He said.

"Mostly in the church choir," she replied. "But, I do love a ballad."

"We have an Open Mic night on Thursdays, maybe you could show us what you've got," he said.

She laughed. "I'd have to have a few glasses of wine first."

"Then I'd call you a cab," he smiled and got up from the bench.

"Why don't we sit over her." He motioned over to a table and she followed, fidgeting with her purse strap.

"So you perform here?" she said, as she sat placed her purse on the chair next to her.

"Occasionally. I own the place," he said.

"Really? A federal agent with a bar...interesting," she considered the information. "So, you get 'em drunk, then follow 'em, and arrest 'em for DWI?"

"Now, that would be entrapment, nurse," he said with a smile. "Besides CFA is more about the music then the booze."

"A bar that's not about the booze? Why, that's like a hospital that's not about medication," she replied.

"Not everyone who goes to a hospital gets drugs," he said.

"No, but they sure try," she smiled.

"Well, we do take care when serving, and we have a strict 'call a cab' policy, if we think anyone's had too much," he said.

"Oh, so not special just for me?" She said, cursing herself silently for flirting.

There was an awkward silence.

"You said you had something..." He lead.

"Have you found Hollister?" She asked.

"Not yet, but if you have any idea of his whereabouts, that would be helpful," he said.

"Sorry, I can't help you there." She bit her lip nervously as she took the paper out of her purse. "But, the reason I called was this." She showed him the paper. "I found this on the floor of DuBois' room when I was cleaning up his things. I totally forgot. I found it in my pocket doing laundry."

Pride took the paper; it contained a list of about 10-15 men's names. Some were crossed off, most had check marks.

"Do you know who these people are?" he asked.

"Not all. The names I recognize were Hollister's patients, and, those all served in the military, so maybe they all did..." she trailed off.

"And you know this how?"

"I worked in his office for eight years, and, well, look at the name third from the bottom," she said.

Pride looked at the name, MATTHEW NORTON. It was crossed off.

"Your son?" he said softly.

She nodded. "Marine killed in Afghanistan six years ago," she said, her eyes tearing up. "Many of the others were his friends. A few others dead; some messed up-none of them the same."

Pride gave her a look of concern.

"So, you see," she continued to look down, her voice beginning to waver. "I would like to find out what happened here too."

He covered her hand with his, "I promise we'll get to the bottom of this." **  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

After meeting with Rachel, Pride headed over to the lab. As he drove, he began to think of how soft her hands were; he was reluctant to let go. He could see the pain in her eyes and wanted to help her. Hell, he really wanted to see her again. He frowned at these thoughts. She was part of an investigation and he could not get involved.

He was still considering the situation when he entered the morgue.

"What's going on Dwayne?" Loretta asked. "You look deep in thought."

"Oh, just this case. It's baffling," he said, covering up the real cause.

"No kidding," she pursed her lips. "I can tell you this, a gunshot did not kill this man."

She walked over to the body on the examining table and Pride followed.

"You think he could have been drugged or suffocated?" Pride asked, staring intently at the dead man.

"No outward evidence of suffocation or strangulation," she said. "And, it will take some more time for the drug screen. But, I don't think that was the cause either."

"No?"

"I found something interesting when I examined the heart-frothy blood in the left ventricle," she said. "And when I tested further, the right ventricle floated in water."

"Which means..." Pride prodded.

"It indicates an air embolism."

"And that is…" he prodded again.

She guided him over to a computer screen model.

"Think of the blood vessels as large straw. If air gets in, it blocks the flow of the liquid and if it gets to the heart or lung-well, that's a one-way ticket to stroke or cardiac arrest," she said.

"How does air get in there?" Pride asked.

"Sometimes through bubbles in IV's, and Dubois had two. But, those are inserted in a vein, and it would take a large amount of air to kill him. But, just point five to one milliliter of air injected into the coronary artery can cause cardiac arrest in a minute or two," she said.

"So, this isn't something that happens accidentally," he said.

"Oh no, it would be deliberate. it's tricky sticking an artery-they're rubbery," she said.

"So, the person doing this would have to be a professional," he mused.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"So, did you find any puncture marks that would show this happened?" He said.

"There are a few," she said. "But, it's possible he was injected with drugs directly into the heart during the code. I've asked to see the record; that should tell me if and how many times he was stuck."

"So air embolism is the COD?" He said.

"Given the findings so far, I'd say it's a good possibility," she said.

Neither of them heard the door open.

"Well, no matter what, that security guard is totally in the clear." Both Pride and Loretta turned around to see Sebastian Lund.

"Ok," Pride said. "You have something to back that up?"

The young man motioned to Pride. "Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," he chanted.

Pride gave Loretta a "there he goes again" look and followed Sebastian.

"So what'd you got?" Pride asked when they entered the lab next door.

"I've got Percy!" Lund said, turning his laptop around. Sonja was indeed on the screen.

"Sebastian, did you tell him about the magic bullet?" She said in an excited voice that was rare for her.

"We haven't gotten into that yet," he turned to Pride. "You know about the multiple bullet theory in the Kennedy Assassination?"

Pride stared at the young man. He liked him, but had little patience for these diversions. "Yes, and it better have something to do with this case."

"Well, sorta-stay with me," Sebastian said. "So, we know from witnesses and the guard's gun that he fired three times. Initially, we found two bullets in the wall and the one that hit him."

"Go on."

"The problem was when I compared the three bullets, the one from the victim didn't match the other two," Lund said.

"So there were two shooters?" Pride asked.

"And possibly four bullets," the young man said. "So, I asked Percy to check the scene again…"

Sonja joined in, "We scoured around the area, and found a bullet in a tree. It must have gone out of the open window."

"But, we only heard three shots," Pride said.

"Yes, but the shots could have overlapped each other, or the other shooter could have used a silencer," Sebastian said. There were a few beats as Pride considered this information.

"Very good Sebastian," Pride said.

"Hey, I found the fourth bullet," Sonja protested.

"You did good too, agent," He smiled as he backed to the door, "Scooby snacks all around."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

After leaving the morgue, Pride had a hankering for some gumbo at one of his favorite dives. Percy would always marvel at his ability to eat after visiting the lab, but he had been doing it this long, it just didn't affect his appetite. On the way, he called the office and got Brody and Plume started on researching the names on the list.

He had just finished when he got a call that Hollister's car had been found in a fenced-off area of the Ponchartrain underpass. When Pride approached the scene, he saw several NOPD cop cars and a van marked "Coroner." Shit.

He parked and went over to the open trunk that appeared to be the center of attention. He flashed his badge to the officer in charge.

Inside lay a large man about 59 who was never going to collect Social Security. He had greying hair and wore a white lab coat stained with blood from a chest wound. He also had a neat hole in his forehead. He was blindfolded and gagged.

"Hollister?" He asked Loretta, who was crouched on the side.

Loretta looked up shielding her eyes from the sun, "Indeed, it is the good doctor. But, there's something interesting here Dwayne. He's been dead at least four days."

Pride finished her thought, "And dead men can't kill other men."

Pride called the office to let them know what happened and that he would be a while. They informed him they made progress on the list, and that Percy had returned from her interviews at the clinic. He urged them to keep going. Almost immediately after hanging up, Sebastian called saying he had lab results that were "freaky-deaky, and not in a good way." Pride told the young man to call into the plasma, so the whole team could hear the results.

In the meantime, LaSalle limped into the office with a cane. His arm still in a sling.

"King here?" He asked.

Brody frowned. "No and you shouldn't either."

"Oh, I was going crazy bein' cooped up," he said. "Anything new on DuBois?"

Brody looked at Plume. "Yeah. We were just calling Pride, so we don't have to go through all this twice."

Percy got Pride on speaker and Sebastian on the plasma. Each member shared the evidence gathered so far.

"We're going to have to bring the nurse in, Pride," LaSalle said to the phone.

Pride hesitated. It pained him to think that Rachel was involved. But, they had to go where the evidence led.

"OK, Christopher, but wait till I get back," he said.

Five minutes later, Rachel Norton walked into the office.

"Mrs. Norton, we were just going to call you," LaSalle said.

"Well, the girls at the clinic told me you wanted to talk to me," she said. "I have to get to work in a few hours, so I thought I'd get it over with."

Percy made a face; she knew the nurse's name had come up, but had never said anything about calling her.

Rachel looked around. "Is Agent Pride here? I'd rather talk to him."

"He's busy at the moment," LaSalle said as he considered the situation. She had come under her own volition; if he tried to delay her, she might skip out. "But, we do need to have a talk. Let's get started and Pride will join us later."

As they walked through the kitchen, Rachel thought they were going to sit there for a friendly conversation. But, her stomach dropped when LaSalle lead her through the courtyard and into the stark interrogation room. She nearly jumped two feet when the steel door closed firmly behind them.

LaSalle dropped the full case file on the table and motioned for her to sit opposite.

She was too nervous to skirt around the issue. "Am I under arrest or something?"

LaSalle smiled, "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Where is Agent Pride?" She asked. "Is he watching?" She said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"Agent Pride is tracking down some leads on Dr. Hollister," he said.

"Is this about the list?" She said.

"Yes," Chris said. He began to spread pictures of the men's military portraits in front of her, except her son's. "These are the men - all from New Orleans or Jefferson parish. All served overseas in the military within the past 12 years. And, all were past or present patients of the Crescent Clinic."

He stopped and placed one more picture on top - - Mark DuBois.

"Guess what else. DuBois fits our profile too. He just got out of a psychiatric hospital for severe PSTD," he said.

"So, that's good, right. There's a pattern. You can trace it to the doctor," she was hopeful.

"What I want to know is how did you get this list?" He stared straight at her.

She stared back, unafraid. "As I told Agent Pride, I picked it off the floor at DuBois' room, forgot about it, then found it again in my laundry."

"A few days after," he said.

"Yeah…"

"Pretty coincidental," he continued. "You just happened to be the one to find it with no one else around." He paused, "Is it your practice to take patients' belongings?"

"That's the way it happened," she responded tersely. "I was upset at the death, and another nurse distracted me. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"But, it was enough to implicate Hollister," he said. "And, in another amazing coincidence, you're the only one who reported seeing him that day. We have no video evidence of him coming or going."

"There are ways to get into the ER without being seen, he would have known that, " she countered. "Pride even followed him out the back way."

"Maybe, maybe," he said. "Of course, Pride only followed someone you identified from the back as Hollister. He never saw the man's face."

"I was trying to help," she said tersely.

"Well, you identified a dead man," he said, throwing the picture that Pride took from the crime scene. "Our doctor confirmed he was dead before DuBois was shot.

Rachel turned pure white. She fingered the photo gingerly, "That can't be. I swear I saw him. Of course, it was just briefly and the second time was from the back."

"Or, were you trying to get Pride away from the scene," he paused. "You also volunteered to record the code…"

"So? I'm detail oriented," she sat defiantly.

"Isn't it part of the recorder's job to document drugs given to the patient?" he asked.

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"So, if you wanted to, oh, cover up some suspicious puncture wounds on the patient's chest, you could say that they injected adrenaline into his heart," he said. "Which you did, twice."

"And, what am I covering up exactly?" She crossed her arms.

"Our medical examiner determined that DuBois died of an embolism from air injected directly into his cardiac artery," he said.

"OK, that makes sense," she said almost to herself. "But, even if I had anything to do with this, to think I could cover it up is preposterous!" She threw her arms in the air. "First, I have to show the doctor the document and he has to sign it, and, second, we have to account for all drugs used."

"Well, residents who are tired can skim and miss things," he said. "Especially those who trust the experienced nurse."

"They are very careful when they read the record, especially in a patient's death," she said, trying to keep calm. "Everything I recorded happened. Besides, when did I supposedly do this?

"You told Pride you were in DuBois' room before the code was called," he countered.

"I said, I passed by the room and saw Hollister…" she frowned and corrected herself. "That is, who I _thought_ was Hollister. Then, I was with you for about 20 minutes. You do recall right?"

Instead of answering her question, he pressed on.

"Still, that was plenty of time for the injection to take effect and have someone else find him," he said. "We also know you were out of the unit around the same time that the sailor was shot."

"Wait a minute," she said. "I was on my lunch break. I walked across the street to the park to eat in the sun. I would have to sprint pretty fast to get to the clinic, shoot DuBois, and make it back," she said.

There was a loud bang on the mirror.

"I think you're being paged," she said.

LaSalle made a face and went out of the room with the folder.

He went in the other room to face a very pissed off senior officer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Dammit Christopher, what don't you understand about 'wait for me?'" Pride yelled as LaSalle opened the door.

"She came on her own. I didn't want her to get scared off," he said. "Besides…" he trailed off.

"Yes?" Pride hissed.

"You don't seem impartial on this," he said. "You just do what she says at the hospital; then you interview her offsite." He paused and began to take a softer tone. "Now we have two dead bodies, King, and with this evidence and anyone else, you'd be all over it."

"My gut tells me she's not a killer," he said.

"Well, it probably has something to do with her son," LaSalle said.

Pride frowned. "Let me ask her." He said. "You stay here."

Pride entered the room. He sat down on the table next to Rachel.

"Pride," she exclaimed, visibly relieved.

"Mrs. Norton," he said quietly.

"I'm so glad you're here. I hope you can talk some sense into that LaSalle," she said.

"I need you to explain what happened. We still have questions," he looked into her eyes.

She looked away. "I can't explain, because I don't know," she turned to him. "Why would I give you the list if I was involved? Why would I even want to kill these people?"

Pride silently placed Matthew Norton's photo on top of the others.

"Sometimes, a mama will do anything to protect her son's reputation," he said softly. "Did you know he was under suspicion for drug use and possible dealing?"

She stared at the photo and spoke deliberately. "My Matty? Never!

"Our lab found that DuBois had an especially high level of creatinine and an previously unidentified synthetic anabolic steroid-a designer drug," he said. "Also, he had kidney and liver damage related to these drugs. And, a quick check of the other men's medical records show many of the others had similar organ damage."

"So now, you want my permission to exhume his body?" she said staring straight at him. "Let me make this easy for you. No. Way."

"Not even if it clears you?" he said, then added gently, "Even if it clears him?"

"I have done nothing to be cleared of!" She crossed her arms. "My son died a hero, rescuing other men when he was killed by an IED. That's all I ever need to know."

Pride got up and stood at the other side of the table facing her.

"These types of drugs are popular with servicemen because it enables them to be stronger and have more stamina." He paused. "Our theory is that Hollister created this drug and then gave it to the men in his practice who were going overseas-for themselves and to sell."

"I have nothing to do with this," she repeated. "I left his practice over eight years ago." She looked up at Pride, her eyes glistening. "I took my children out of the practice too. Matt didn't go to Afghanistan until a year later."

"Why'd you leave the practice?" Pride pushed.

"My husband lost his job, and I needed to get something better paying."

"Still, some women work at the clinic and the hospital," he said. "Like, Ginny Dow."

"Well, she's single. I still had three children at home, I could only have one full-time job," she replied.

"Actually, she told us it was a lover's quarrel." Rachel's face turned crimson.

"I cannot believe they are still passing those lies after all these years!" She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She looked Pride in the eyes again. "The doctor and I, never, and I repeat, never, had any kind of relationship outside of employer and employee. Except, he… he kept harassing me-making suggestive comments. That's why I took my kids out of the practice."

Pride looked over her head into the one-way mirror.

"Do you know of anyone else who might have a part in this?" Pride asked.

Rachel thought for a few minutes, then snapped her fingers. "Yes. I do, yes I do." She leaned in over the table, suddenly excited to have some information. "Leland had a brother, Davis, who used to be a compounding pharmacist - until he lost his license for filing fake prescriptions."

Pride furrowed his brow. "What's that mean?"

"Most pharmacists fill prescriptions from larger bottles of pills," she said. "A compounding druggist know how to make drugs from scratch. You know, if someone needs a special medication."

"Anything else, " Pride asked.

"I only met him once, but I do recall remarking on their close resemblance. I could have seen him and just assumed it was LeLand." She sat back, satisfied.

Pride pursed his lips. He had interrogated countless people over the years, and had gotten pretty good at evaluating suspects. Some of deputies at the Sheriff's Department called him "the human lie detector." All his indicators told him Rachel Norton was telling the truth. Still, like the machine, he had been fooled a few times over the years.

"Let me check on this information," he said finally. He went to the door. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Sure. A little milk if you have it," she said relaxing. "Agent Pride, I just want to get out of here. I don't want to be late for my shift."

"I'll see what I can do." He said and left.

LaSalle was already coming out of the observation room. The two men headed for the kitchen.

"You really believe her story about this brother?" LaSalle asked.

"That's what you're going to find out," Pride said slipping the file into LaSalle's sling. He went into the kitchen and began preparing the coffee as he watched the door across the courtyard.

After a few minutes, Brody stuck her head in. "Pride, we got something."

He followed her into the office, where the other agents were standing and staring at the plasma. It displayed a picture and record of a man who did have a striking resemblance to the man Pride saw inside the trunk, sans bullet holes.

Brody narrated, "This is Davis Hollister. His info checks out, just like Rachel Norton said."

"Any address or info on his whereabouts?" Pride asked.

Brody shook her head. "He drifted around after he lost his license. But, there is an old address for him." She clicked the remote and brought it up on the screen.

Percy looked up at Pride. "That's a popular neighborhood for meth makers. It's secluded, near the waterway for easy access."

LaSalle added, "The proverbial cabin in the woods."

Pride nodded his head. "Good work. Brody, you and Percy go out there, maybe get some backup from ATF."

"LaSalle, I suggest you go home and rest," he said.

As the young agent began to protest, Pride lifted his hand. "That's an order. You've done enough here today."

With that, Pride turned around and went back into the kitchen. As he was pouring coffee, he looked up for a minute and saw the interrogation room door ajar.

"Son of a bitch, can't anyone do what I tell them today?" he yelled.

He ran out to the gate just in time to see Rachel turning a corner. She was not alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

After Pride left, Rachel sat in the interrogation room as bad memories of her former employer mixed with the bittersweet ones of her lost son. She always considered Leland Hollister a major league asshole, but had tolerated him because they worked together. She could have filed a sexual harassment suit against him, but since he was friendly with a lot of the higher ups at the hospital, she didn't want to sabotage her career there. At the time, her husband Ronnie was distraught over the loss of his job, their eldest son, Junior, was in law school, Matt was in college, and Luke and Grace were still in high school. She had to get a stable income; there was no room for drama.

She had heard rumors about Davis slinking around his brother's practice at odd hours, but took them with a grain of salt - the hospital was a giant petri dish infected with gossip. If what they thought was right, it appeared that those stories were true. The Hollisters came from an old southern family peppered with doctors, lawyers, judges, and a congressman or two. It always confounded her when seemingly intelligent people from so-called good families chose the dark side. Maybe they were rebelling, or maybe they just thought they were above the law. Whatever the cause, they only left a trail of destruction. Unfortunately, she saw the effects of this evil everyday in the victims of abuse, gunshots, and drunk drivers. She never understood it in any incarnation.

She thought of her sweet son who, lacking direction, left college for the Marines. She had begged him not to enlist, but he said he wanted to test himself and find his passion. Of course, she had noticed some changes in him after he was shipped overseas, but she figured it was the effects of war. Had he been on drugs? She racked her brain but still could not recall seeing any signs. Of course, it might not be obvious over a FaceTime connection. Maybe he was only suspected because he hung around with the others. But, Pride was right, no matter how this all shook out, she had to have him exhumed to know. There was a chance that his body was too deteriorated for any definitive answers. If tests showed he was involved, then she'd deal with it and move on-it would never negate his heroism. But, if he wasn't, then she could stop the rumors. She owed it to him.

While it felt better to have a plan, she didn't relish having to follow through. She was almost relieved when she heard a knock on the door that diverted her thoughts.

"Pride?" she called out. When there was no answer, she got up and opened it. There stood Ginny Dow.

Rachel wouldn't be more surprised to see the devil himself at the door. "Ginny, what are you doing here?"

"I knew you'd make a beeline here, when I told you they wanted to talk to you," Ginny sneered. "You always were the obedient type Rachel."

She was confused. "I thought they wanted me to come."

"Oh, I'm sure they would have gotten around to it, given all the crumbs I left leading right to your perfect little self," Ginny taunted. "Of course, I didn't know you had any real information. I didn't know there was a list, until I found out the agents were snooping around the old records."

"You were the one who called the code that day," Rachel realized, her eyes getting wide. "You're the one who injected the sailor with air."

"Wouldn't have had to if Davis had been more accurate with his gun," Ginny sniffed.

"But, why…" Rachel stuttered.

"Loose ends, dear," Ginny said with resignation. "And now, you're another one dangling in my way."

Rachel's heart quickened at the sight of a pistol pointed at her midsection.

"Unfortunately for you, I am a much better shot." Ginny motioned with the gun. "Let's go! I want to be long gone before Dudley Do-Right gets back."

As they left the room, Rachel looked furtively to the left hoping to make eye contact with someone, but the kitchen was empty.

Ginny pressed the gun into Rachel's shoulders. "Keep moving." As they left the courtyard, Ginny held the gate for Rachel, not allowing her to bang it or make any other noise.

"But why Ginny," she said. "Why did you get involved?"

"Oh don't you know we gals will do anything for the men we love," she said. "Besides, the money was good."

"But, those boys, those drugs ravaged their bodies," Rachel said. "How can you do that as a nurse?"

"There are always side effects," she replied. "You know that. Not everything we do is for the benefit of the patient. They knew what they were doing."

They turned the corner where a blue Lexus was parked, engine running. Rachel took a guess at who was driving.

"So you switched brothers just like that," she was feeling a bit bold.

Ginny's face hardened. "I like a warm body to hold at night. Especially one who doesn't betray you."

"Was it another woman or the police?" Rachel forgot her peril for a moment. She wanted to know what led to these events.

Ginny replied by digging the gun into her kidneys. "Shut up and get in the back," she hissed.

In a split second, Rachel considered her options. She knew going to a second scene meant certain death. If she could keep herself near the NCIS office, they might still find her.

Rachel started toward the car, then dropped to the ground. "I lost a contact," she yelled.

This distracted Ginny for a minute. "What?" As she leaned down, Rachel whacked her with all her might and got up to run.

But, the other woman was too quick and tripped her.

"That was stupid, Rachel," she said. "Given our history, I was going to take you somewhere clean and peaceful. But, now you really pissed me off." She pulled Rachel to her feet and dragged her into a nearby alley, behind a dumpster. A huge rat rambled out and ran over her foot. Ginny shot it. She turned back to Rachel.

"I guess I just have to take care of you here among the other vermin."

"C'mon Ginny, you don't want to do this. You know you'll get caught eventually. Do you just want to keep killing?" Rachel said softly. "I know this isn't you."

"I guess you don't know me as well as you thought," she said, cocking the trigger.

Suddenly, Rachel saw something larger moving around the dumpster. Her heart leapt to see Pride creep behind Ginny and her eyes involuntarily went wide.

Ginny scoffed, "You must really think I'm stupid to fall for that 'someone's behind you' shit."

Pride held a gun at her back. "Then I guess you're not as smart as you think," he said. "NCIS! Drop that gun now and put your hands behind your head nice and slow."

She did as told, but, too soon, another shadow rose behind Pride.

"Pride! Watch out!" Rachel yelled.

An arm came down on his head, dropping him efficiently. Davis Hollister glared at Rachel like a hungry wolf.

"Well, lookie who got herself all messed up in our nasty business," he licked his lips. "The elusive Mrs. Norton."

He looked over at Ginny who had recovered her gun.

"Guess, it's me who has to clean up for you this time," he spat at Ginny. "Adios," he said to Rachel, who for the second time in as many minutes was at the business end of handgun.

"Not so fast there amigo." It was LaSalle. " Drop the gun, hands up, turn around real slow."

Davis turned to see LaSalle holding his gun with his good arm, supporting it with his slinged arm.

"Well if it isn't the gimp patrol," Hollister spat out. "This is going to be eas…." He was interrupted when Pride, having gained consciousness, tackled him. In the excitement, Ginny turned her attention away from Rachel. The gun fell to the ground. Both women scrambled for it, but this time, Rachel had the upper hand. She took the gun and held her former friend at bay.

"So, I see you disobeyed me again son," Pride said to LaSalle as he handcuffed Hollister.

"Actually, I was on my way to the car when I saw you run down the street," LaSalle snapped. "But, looks like I saved your ass anyway," he grinned. At that moment, Percy and Brody came running down.

"We turned around and got here soon as we could when LaSalle called," Brody said.

"Looks like country mouse did ok, even with his bad paw," Percy smiled.

"Told you the sling would make a good holster," LaSalle smiled. "Pride you want us to…"

Pride put his hand up for him to be quiet. Rachel had cornered GInny on the ground and was growling as if possessed. "Was Matty involved? Tell me. I know you know." When there was no answer, Rachel's timbre increased, "Talk, you bitch, tell me now!" the gun shook wildly.

Pride put his hands over her's to gently take the weapon. "Rachel, don't," he said softly. "We don't need any more tragedy." She was still shaking as Percy put the cuffs on Ginny, while Brody stood with Davis.

"Make her tell you!" Rachel screamed. "Make her tell you!" She started crying. Pride pulled her away and tried to comfort her, but she shook him off. She took a deep breath. "Just get them to tell you the truth!"

"I will." he said.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Four days later, Pride strode up to the receptionist at the PMC ER and asked for Rachel.

He turned around and leaned against the desk, folding his arms. He hadn't seen her since that day, but he had been thinking of her.

As it turned out, LeLand Hollister faced a terminal diagnosis and was starting to make amends to the soldiers he had hurt. He had set up a meeting with DuBois, but when he failed to show up (due to Ginny putting a bullet in his brain), DuBois went beserk and showed up at the office. Unfortunately, Davis was there waiting and could have killed him right there until the security guard got in the way.

The men on the list were only names of those possibly involved, their only connection being that they had gone to Hollister's clinic as boys and then went into the military during a certain time period. When contacted, a few appeared genuinely surprised and not part of the scheme. Most admitted to being part of the drug ring. They told Pride that while Hollister had targeted Matt Norton, he had nothing to do with the ring. As retaliation, they were blackmailed to spread rumors about him. But, in the end, they all said he had not been involved.

Pride called Rachel with the news. She told him she was satisfied that the men were telling the truth and they could let her son rest in peace. He had wanted to say more, but she said a curt "Thank you," and hung up abruptly. He decided it was better to say his piece in person.

To his surprise, Rachel came in from the back with a broad smile. "Special Agent Dwayne Pride! Did LaSalle get injured again?"

"I wanted to talk to you—can you spare a few minutes?" he asked.

She considered it. "You lucked out Pride, there's a lull in the mayhem. Coffee in the cafeteria OK?"

"Perfect," he smiled.

"I'll be back in ten, Josie," she said to another nurse.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The two sat down with their mugs in a corner of the hospital cafeteria.

Pride took a sip of coffee and grimaced; it tasted like burnt leather. He looked at Rachel. A small smile played on her lips as if she enjoyed his discomfort. Still, he liked that smile. It told him she wasn't totally pissed at him.

He was coming to her hat in hand to apologize, which was never easy. LaSalle would never let him hear the end of it if he knew-he believed in never saying sorry to suspects, even if they ended up being victims themselves.

Rachel looked down at his left hand and motioned to the third finger on his left hand. Her face got serious.

"I see you have ring shadow." she said. "How long you been divorced?"

"Ten months now," he said.

She considered her own finger, which had a defined indentation where her wedding band had once been. "I took mine off three years ago to get it resized." She looked back at Pride, "When I got it back, it just didn't fit."

"Leaves an awful mark, " he said.

"True dat," she said. Their mugs met in mid-air to clink.

"I thought you were a widow," he said.

"I am, technically," she said. Her face got serious. "A month after we separated, he was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. I ended up taking care of him."

"That must have been difficult," he said.

She took a sip of coffee. "It was, but, you know, in those last months, we talked more than in the previous two years-actually came to an understanding. Shame really-we wasted all that time being angry," she stopped. "Y'know, when you've got a deadline, you cut through the bullshit."

Pride shook his head in agreement, taking time to consider what she said. He was also trying to figure out how to bring up what he came to say. Eventually, he decided just to plow ahead, even with an awkward segue.

"We didn't get to talk much after everything, and I just wanted to say...the way you were treated wasn't right. I know you were just trying to help us," he said.

"And…"

"And, I'm sorry you ended up in harm's way," he looked down.

"It's really OK; being held at gunpoint is quite exhilarating," she said. "I especially enjoyed the near-death experience."

He frowned, "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Oh, I'm having fun," she said, the sly smile returning.

"I want to make you - a peace offering," he said, putting down his mug.

"I'm listening."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back at the ER, Rachel and her coworker, Josie, watched Pride walk away.

"Umm hmm, that is one silver fox," Josie remarked.

"Yeah, too bad he's a hot mess," Rachel commented. She sat down at the desk and began to checking the status of her patients on the computer. "Newly divorced," she said, continuing to stare at the screen.

"But, he came here to talk instead of just calling." Josie said. She leaned over and whispered in a sing-song, "I think he likes you…"

"A man like that and a woman like me? Nooo way," Rachel protested, typing harder for emphasis.

"What?"

Rachel looked up at her friend. "Pride is a handsome man working with beautiful, young agents during the day and even younger, hotter women at his bar; and you know how they love musicians." She made a face, "He wouldn't want a run-down grandmother like me."

Josie frowned, "C'mon-you may be a grandmother, but a young one-you still have it girl!"

"Oh hon, you're sweet," Rachel put a hand on her friend's arm. "But, I've been single a few years now, and if I've learned anything, it's men my age don't want women my age," she said turning back to her screen. "We remind them of their mortality."

"So, if he's not interested, what did he mean about 'see you on Saturday'?" Josie pushed.

"Piano lessons…"

"Piano lessons?" Josie echoed. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Rachel sighed and looked at her friend. "He feels bad about what happened, so he offered to teach me some basic jazz piano."

Josie did not look convinced. "Umm hmm."

Rachel stammered, "I always wanted to learn…."

"Umm hmm," she winked and walked away.

The edges of Rachel's mouth turned down. As much as she liked Pride, she almost hoped all he had on his mind was music-because if it became more, she felt certain he would end up breaking her heart.  
XXXXXXXXXXXX

Buckley had a wicked cold and Pride made him stay home Friday night. So when Pride came into CFA at 10 a.m. that Saturday, he had only left a mere seven hours before. He was uncharacteristically grouchy, but his lack of sleep wasn't the only thing making him edgy. When he made these plans with Rachel, he had forgotten about his coffee date later in the afternoon with his online dating match. He wasn't sure about meeting the CPA who seemed so perfect two weeks ago, so much had happened since then.

To be honest, he looked forward to seeing Rachel. Despite their rocky introduction, he liked the woman. Most people he dealt with had a veneer of bullshit covering a thicker layer of defensiveness. He appreciated Rachel's straight-forward manner-she seemed incapable of duplicity. He didn't know if it was her profession, but he just always felt better after seeing her. Maybe that was why he invited her for "lessons" in the first place.

Pride was deep into liquor invoices when Rachel ran in. It had been raining and she had gotten soaked just walking from her car.

"Man! It's raining like a pissing cow out there!" she exclaimed. "Do you have a towel or anything?"

Pride chuckled. "Well, that's certainly paints a vivid picture!"

"It's an old French expression," she said. "A little something I picked up from one of my more colorful patients." She looked up at him with a smile, blue eyes sparkling.

He tossed her a clean dishtowel from behind the bar and considered her as she dried off. He noticed the rain made her wavy hair curl and it hung in tendrils framing her face. The look was definitely appealing.

"So, ready to do this?" he asked and led her to the piano.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, smile fading.

"Can you play at all?" he asked.

"A bit. I took lessons as a kid, but never practiced much. Now I just play for my own amusement," She took some wrinkled pages out of her large shoulder bag. "I brought something I've been working on."

"Well, let's hear it girl," he said.

They sat down on the narrow bench. Their thighs touched, and Pride felt discomfort and heat at the same time. He scooched over the other way.

If Rachel felt anything, she didn't let on. She appeared to be preoccupied with performance anxiety.

"I usually just play for myself," she said. "I'm really not good…"

"Don't worry-I just want to see where you are," he encouraged.

"OK. Oh, and I need these," She pulled out a pair of reading glasses, put them on and gave Pride a nervous smile. "Well, here goes nothing." She began to play an easy arrangement of "What'll I Do?." She started off hitting a natural F instead of a sharp for several measures and stopped.

"Do you mind if I sing along? I do that at home and it relaxes me," she said.

"Sure." Pride prayed her voice was better than her playing.

Indeed, she did have a lovely voice-alto with a slight husky tone that gave it character. Unfortunately, her playing did not improve much. She played in a stilted manner often hitting the wrong note. Still, no matter how bad the mistake, she charged on.

She finished and turned expectantly towards Pride.

"Well," he said, trying to be honest, but diplomatic. "First, you have a lovely voice."

"But, I have a long way to go in playing…" she offered.

"You seem very tense when you play; it sounds wooden," he offered.

She relaxed. "That's what I think. I try to get comfortable, but my fingers just don't seem to learn the keyboard. Do you think there's any hope?"

In Pride's opinion, you either felt the music or you didn't, but she did have emotion in her voice, so perhaps she had potential.

"I think we can work on it," he said. "Let's trade places and I'll show you something."

They moved the bench back and Pride stood up. Rachel just moved over so their legs got a bit tangled. As previously, Pride felt heat when they touched.

"First, get rid of this," he took the song and placed it on his side when they switched. "Music is for saps."

"Really?" she said amused.

"Well, it's good to know how to read, but you need to get an instinctive feel of the keyboard so you can play without looking at your fingers," he said. "iIke typing."

"OK," she seemed unsure.

He then went on play a piece he taught Laurel when she was little. He showed her some standard jazz riffs. Before they knew it, an hour had gone by.

"Can I offer you a drink nurse?" he said.

"Sorry, gotta go to work. But, could use some coffee." she replied.

"You drink a lot of coffee," he said.

"Tried coming in drunk once or twice, and they didn't seem to like it," she smiled.

Pride laughed as he got a pot he brewed earlier, and poured two cups.

"How late are you working tonight?" he said.

"Till 11." she replied. "Just enough time to get in the early evening accidents, stabbings, and shootings."

He nodded. "We've been called to crime scenes at all hours. Trouble doesn't take time off."

"Not in this city," she agreed and took a sip, and changed the subject without warning. "So, you have plans for tonight?"

Pride did a small spit take and spilled on his shirt. He suddenly felt uncomfortable. For some reason, it bothered him to be talking to her about this. He cleaned up, then spoke cautiously.

"I, ah, have a, kind of a date." Saying it out loud made it more real and increased his awkwardness.

"Really, a date?" If she was disappointed, she was disguising it well. In fact, she again seemed amused at this discomfort.

"She's from an online dating site. It's just coffee," he said, praying they'd get off the subject.

"You drink a lot of coffee." She said with a smile and a sip.

Pride turned a tad pink. She was not making this easy "Touche." He toasted her with his mug.

She put her cup down. "Internet dates. I went on a couple of those. Only one real disaster. He, ah, loved his mama a bit too much," she made a face.

Pride laughed. "Now how can you fault him for that?'

"That's what they said about Norman Bates." They both laughed.

She continued. "The others were nice enough,, but..." she trailed off as if reluctant to share.

Pride raised his eyebrows. "But?"

She sighed deeply. "There was no crackle, no spark," she paused, "And, and… I want lightning." She put down her mug, leaned forward, and stared at him square in the face. "Are you looking for lightning, Dwayne Pride?"

Pride gulped slightly, then regained his composure. "Well, I thought I had it… once."

"Good," she leaned back. "Then you'll know it when you find it."

With that, she got up, grabbed her purse, and opened the door. It had begun to rain again.

She turned around. "You don't have an umbrella, do you?" she asked.

"Sure," Pride was still a tad dazed from their conversation. He grabbed one from under the bar and handed it to her.

"See you next Saturday, Agent Pride," she said, starting to go through the door and popping the umbrella. She turned toward him again. "Good luck on your...date."

Pride just stared as the door closed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

As he predicted, his date had been a disaster, but not because of this being his first since the divorce. Oh, she was nice enough, but Pride had a nagging feeling that he was doing something wrong. The poor woman was halfway through a story about her lame ex, when he realized he felt guilty as if he was cheating on Rachel.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I forgot I need to do something." He threw some bills on the table. "Nice again to meet you Rachel." He kissed her quickly out of obligation and left.

The dazed woman didn't know what to say except, "OK...but it's Renee."

He went back to the bar and busied himself until 10:30 when he gave the reins over to Buckley and scooted over to Rachel's house. He knew the address from the background check they had done on her.

Now he was poised at her door. For the past hour or so, he had been waiting across the street and down the block. He felt somewhat guilty for stalking her like a suspect, but he had to see her that night before he lost his nerve.

At about 12:15 am, her car entered the driveway; the house lights went on five minutes after.

Like many old homes in New Orleans, Rachel's was narrow and long, with two front doors and ceiling-to-floor front windows. Usually the left was the "real" front door, so he knocked. Knowing she might not respond, he called out, "Rachel, it's Dwayne Pride."

A minute or so later, she opened the door. She was still wearing her scrubs and ID tag, but had taken off her shoes.

"Pride! Didn't expect to see you tonight," she sounded genuinely surprised.

"I, ah, need to pick up my umbrella," he said.

"Really?" She was half-amused and half-incredulous. "OK. I just got home from work," she said leading him in. The front of the house wa open with living and dining areas and kitchen. The bedrooms and baths were behind.

She stopped in front of the kitchen island. "So that must be one special umbrella," she said.

"Family heirloom," he said distracted. "But, I'm also looking for something else."

"What?" she asked puzzled.

"Lightning." He gently drew her face to his. This kiss was definitely an improvement on the previous one he had earlier in the evening. That one had been perfunctory at best. This was a sweet and tender experience he didn't want to end.

"Find it?" she gasped.

"Getting warm," he murmured as he reached down and put her face in his hands and started to kiss her deeper. She stretched up to put her arms around his neck. Oh yeah, this was good.

Still, she was at least eight inches shorter, so Pride lifted her up deftly and sat her down on the island. Now, they were face to face. They began to kiss again, with hungry tongues. He pressed her flatter on the surface. They broke and she uttered breathlessly, "Cccouch, couch, I have a couch…," as she pointed weakly to the left.

Pride smiled, "Good idea." He lifted her off and they began kissing again as they backed up to a chaise that was at the end of the sectional, about five feet away. They fell in a heap, he began kissing her neck and caressing her softly.

He turned to get underneath her. She lay her head on his chest. "So, I take it your date didn't go well," she said.

Pride chuckled softly as he stroked her hair. "There was a problem."

"What was that?"

"I couldn't stop thinking of my … umbrella." Then, he began the soft, tender kisses that turned into hot, explorations of each other's mouths.

She wanted to tell him to go-that she didn't want him on the rebound-but he was so delicious and it had been so long since she had been kissed like this.

As she settled back in his arms, she looked up at him quizzically, "Is that umbrella really a family heirloom?"

"Could be, I just grabbed it out of lost and found," he said. She laughed and they kissed.

"Now, I have a question" he said,. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm all yours, darlin'," she answered.

The talking stopped for a very long time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pride woke to ungodly high-pitched shrieks of children's laughter. He and Rachel were lying on top of her bed and he was relieved to find that he was not naked, but down to his boxers and t-shirt. Rachel was snuggled on his chest; she had on a tank top and and pajama shorts. Before he could recall more, two small children-a girl about four in a navy blue sailor dress and a boy about two in a matching short set tore through the door.

The girl began to shake Rachel vigorously. "Memaw! Memaw! Wake up!"

Rachel squinted as she woke up. "Hey, what are you kids doing here?"

"It's Sunday Memaw. We're goin' to church!" the little girl said. She immediately turned to Pride.

"Who are you?" She said, putting her hands behind her back and looking at the ground.

Rachel took one look at her grandchildren and one at Pride. She drew a deep breath. "Janey, This is Mr. Pride. He's my... very good friend."

Never having been in a situation like this, Pride gave the child a lopsided smile. "Hi, Janey."

Janey stared at Pride, then ran out of the room shouting, "Mama, Memaw had a sleepover!"

"Shit, I forgot they were picking me up today," she said. "See the effect you have on me?" She kissed him and he returned the favor, putting his arm around her waist.

"Ahem!" Standing at the foot of the bed was a very pregnant and very pissed-off young African-American woman wearing a bright pink maternity dress with a large bow at the midriff.

"Having a man in your bed on a Sunday with your grandchildren here! It's a good thing Junior's waiting in the car, he would have a conniption!" she said, her hands firmly on her hips.

"Well, technically, we're _on_ the bed," Rachel said. "Claudia, this is NCIS Special Agent Dwayne Pride. Dwayne, this is my daughter-in-law Claudia."

Pride stumbled to his feet. Having no words, he smiled weakly and held out his hand. Claudia crossed her arms over her belly.

"The one who almost got you killed? I suppose he's here on some sort of special protection detail…" she crossed her arms. Again, Pride was speechless. His mama never prepared him for such a situation.

"Not that it's any of your business, but, we were watching a movie on TV last night and just fell asleep," Rachel said in a semi-lie. They had fallen asleep on the bed, but there was no TV watching. They had alternately made out like teenagers at a drive-in and talked until 4 am. She just prayed there were no telltale marks on her neck.

"Hmph!" Claudia left the room, slamming the door.

"Oops," he said. "Sorry about that."

"I can skip this week," Rachel said getting up on her knees and facing him.

"I wouldn't want to be responsible for you going to hell." he said with a grin, gently stroking her arm.

"Oh, I'm afraid that ship has sailed," she smiled back. They began to kiss again.

"Are you coming Mother Rachel?" Claudia said through the door.

They broke with a sigh at the interruption.

"Be right out," Rachel called back. She turned to Pride. "It's the hormones," she sighed. "She really is a lovely girl." She began to get up. "Don't you move now-I'll be right back. Believe me, the Lord will understand."

Pride couldn't keep from smiling ear to ear.

 **THE END**


End file.
